


Maybe I'll Trust You

by Tea_Mania



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Character Development, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everything Hurts, Everything and Nothing is A Song Reference, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kazekage Gaara (Naruto), Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Mania/pseuds/Tea_Mania
Summary: When confronted with a hoard of the infected, (Y/n) is separated from the vagabond group she had been traveling with. Seeking supplies and temporary shelter, she finds herself at the gang-laden city commonly known as Central. Get in, get out - simple enough; Too bad for her, Lady Fate has other plans. [Ongoing]Modern Apocalypse AU || Gaara x Fem!Reader(Originally Posted on Quotev Under the Same Name)
Relationships: Gaara (Naruto)/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Maybe I'll Trust You

“Trust issues plague people today the ways fleas plague country dogs.” ~ Mira Kirshenbaum

(Y/n) bit her lip in concentration as she warily peered around the corner of the deteriorated, vine-covered building. The sidewalk before her was barely even a sidewalk, just a mere concrete ghost of dirt, a few stubborn straggles of grass, and a mosaic of busted glass. The female’s gaze shifted, surveying the landscape beyond what lay directly below her feet. 

The road, once well-maintained, was littered in translucent shards of glass and topped by a broad assortment of rubbish and potential hazards. Her eyes flickered warily between the abandoned cars to the clotting piles of rubble and mangled metal to the other dilapidated buildings lining the other side of a considerably wide street. If the (h/c)-haired female cared for daydreaming, she could probably speculate for hours how the old world used to be uniquely beautiful; But then again, she didn’t particularly care for the concept of dreaming. 

The smell of rot hung in the air like a filthy cloud and if she strained her ears over the sounds of crow caws and the wind whistling through the barren streets, the female swore she could hear the haunting sound of people. However, as she had come to learn about herself over the past week, she had the exceptionally high likelihood of scaring herself senseless without proper justification.

(Y/n) breathed a quick sigh of relief, then proceeded to move one hand to the strap of her worn satchel and her other to the flip-knife casually concealed in the pocket of her cargo pants. The female, out of almost unnecessary caution, again looked both ways before silently stepping out of the alley and into the undefendable sidewalk.

The (e/c)-eyed twelve-year-old walked quickly and efficiently, frequently casting purposeful glances to her blind spots and keeping a skillful hand on the stashed blade at all times. The preteen had never truly wanted, nor intended, to travel alone, the thought was as fictional and absurd, as much as it was realistically the culmination of a rooted death wish. Lady Luck, however, had a weird way of showing affection and regularly came to offer unwanted gifts. 

The (h/c)-haired female took a glance towards the sky, the looming presence of bulky, rain-laden clouds and the increasingly darkening sky involuntarily prompted a grimace and a string of curses no child of her age should know. 

(Y/n) ought to give Lady Luck a solid right hook to repay her bountiful kindness.

Nevertheless, the female continued unhindered. Whether rain or snow or for any other given reason under the sun, it was incomprehensibly foolish for a traveler to dawdle in the once-bustling city. It was already one tablespoon crazy and a pinch of ‘oh well’ that cooked up the metaphorical meal of her arrival in town, but it was a dash of realism that prompted her to further commit and get out as quickly as humanly possible. 

The city - which no living person cared for the true name of anymore - was now more commonly known as ‘Central’ and was once home to a cesspool of turf wars and desperate gangs. In the first ten-years since ‘The End’, most of the newly formed survivor groups migrated out, but for those that decided to remain, squabbles still broke out at the territory borders and bitterness was rampant over old raids and the death of a comrade at the hands of a rival. It was a complicated history and one the female adamantly did not want to get in on or be accidentally snuffed out on account of. 

There was a crash nearby and (Y/n) wasted little of her precious time. She stopped dead in her tracks, her blade immediately out and her body sliding into a stance of second-nature defense. She waited for a brief moment, her heart racing as she took a step forward and peered around the crumbling stone corner and into the dark alleyway. Amongst the thigh-high patches of grass growing in between ill-maintained cracks, the dented, overflowing trash bin clanged and sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She didn’t dare speak. 

(Y/n) waited quietly. A minute. Two. Soon five. Then rationally decided the threat was not actually a threat and was quite possibly the antics of a scavenging raccoon or a rat feasting on whatever scraps remained in a trash bin that hadn’t been emptied in decades. The female took a breath to slow her rapidly beating heart and safely returned her blade to her pocket; Then sensibly continued as if nothing had occurred. 

The preteen’s boots, dusty and timeworn, echoed eerily against the exposed skeletons of dilapidated skyscrapers and abandoned vehicles as they clomped against shattered glass and solid concrete. She ignored the ghostliness that met her ears. Ignored the gradual increase in the wind’s intensity. Ignored the casual drop of water that spattered on her path. Above all, (Y/n) ignored her growing sense of malaise. The female, after all, was unequivocally intent on making it to the no-man’s land trapped not-so-comfortably between the formidable Sunagakure, the highly-populated Konohagakure, and the abnormally impenetrable Amegakure. 

(Y/n) had no clue what gang’s territory she was in and didn’t particularly want to find out, instead steeling herself to find the tattered white markers signifying the cease-fire demanded in the region of peaceful land. The twelve-year-old intended to stay there the night, stock up on resources like dry wood, water, and food before leaving at the crack of dawn to travel through the next claimed territory and into another no-man’s land. 

From what she figured, it would take two solid days to completely, and safely, cross the city on foot. As another pioneering droplet of water landed on her grimy cheek, (Y/n) begrudgingly added another half-day to the mental calculation. Then reluctantly acquiesced to her brain’s more logical argument to seek shelter ‘till the storm passed; A decision conveniently made at the appropriate time. The sky seemed to break into full tears then, water falling from the sky in a torrent of wind and muck. 

Lady Luck was really begging for that right hook; Perhaps a second to follow.

The (H/c)-haired female sighed and began to look around for cover that would be both inhabitable and defendable. There was not a snowball’s chance in hell she was locking herself into a crumbly building with little defense and planted in the heart of an aggressive gang’s turf; Though she supposed it would be quite the melodramatic way to go out. 

The twelve-year-old couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at the thought. 

(Y/N) continued to walk in the growing downpour, carefully scanning the buildings she passed for a temporary hideout that scraped through on her personal expectation. The female held the strap of her satchel tighter and flipped the collar up to her hand-me-down, tri-mended overcoat. A garment that was very much so becoming less of a protection and more of a water-logged hindrance. 

The (e/c)-eyed female stopped in front of a multi-floor structure. The front of the building had caught her attention. A large glass window was almost the entire front of the first floor of the building; Exempting the dip inwards to shelter a partly plexiglass door. Those aspects weren’t unusual, but it was the interior that she found pleasing. Shards of glass littered the partially elevated display, covered by the random dismembered body-parts of plastic, human reminiscent figures. (Y/N) sighed and carefully climbed through the ragged hole in the glass. 

She stood atop the display area for a moment, taking in her surroundings and acknowledging the contents that remained in the old clothing store. (Y/n)’s attention lingered on the deathly pale arm of one of the plastic, humanoid figures and childishly smirked. She picked the arm up, quickly wiping the layer of grime from the item before haphazardly stashing the bodiless arm into her satchel, the stationary fingers bizarrely peeking out from under the top fold of the cloth bag. 

Beyond the display case were toppled metal racks, empty shelves, a chunky double staircase that looked like it once moved, and a few doors that were most likely for temporary storage. (Y/n) ran a hand through her wet locks, tucking the stands that had fallen into her eyes behind her ears and allowing for her vision to readjust to the dim lighting. 

The (e/c)-eyed female curiously walked around the interior for a while, becoming acquainted with exit points and holes in the building’s defense. From what (Y/n) could figure, there were at least two more floors, but the metal box - an elevator, she recalled - had long since been out of order. There was probably a fire escape she could climb to reach the upper floors, yet the twelve-year-old didn’t plan on staying long and wanted to catch a few winks of sleep while the rain droned on. The additional endeavor, she concluded, was pointless. 

Survey complete, the preteen made her way to a grouping of stalls in the back corner of the second floor. A thin wall was positioned in front of the booths; One side having adjoined shelves and cubbies, while the stall-facing side was decorated by three severely faded and tattered posters. The open face, three-sided stalls had benches that were attached to the back wall and a handy metal hook drilled into the right wall. Aluminum rods adorned by rusty metal rings stretched between the parallel walls of the stall’s sides and effectively across the open entrance. She guessed there had probably been cloth curtains, but the material had been repurposed long ago. 

(Y/n) entered the final stall and took a deep intake of breath. She carefully took her satchel off, placing it on the end of the bench and taking a seat herself. It was then that she released the breath she had been holding. 

The rain continued to pour outside, the rhythmic effect echoing through the desolate building and becoming a melodious accompaniment to the eerie whistling of the wind through the many broken windows. (Y/n) tugged her coat closer for some sort of semblance of comfort and warmth, then pulled her legs up on the bench with the rest of her body. She curled her figure to fit, laying her head against her satchel and closing her eyes in a forced attempt to sleep. Naturally, it only took a moment for (Y/n) to scowl and shift her head. Then shift again. It only took another moment for her to sit up, pull her bag closer, and remove the plastic arm. She set the object beside her on the bench, returned her bag to its original place, and reverted back to her previous sleeping posture. 

Lulled by the background noise of the storm and three restless days of traveling, (Y/n) slowly drifted off. 

~ + ~ 

A chill of imminent death abruptly aroused (Y/n) from her period of rest. Still partially asleep, her hand moved for the nearest object and jumped to her feet in a swift flow of movement. 

“Stay back!” she demanded, her eyes narrowing to see in the dark, “I-I will use this… uh, this…,”

It was then that (Y/n) realized what she was actually holding. The dismembered plastic arm she had picked up hours before. The female would have sighed in exasperation if she wasn’t cornered and quite possibly on the brink of death.

“This smart-alecky brat thinks she can take us with a mannequin arm?” 

“I don’t want to be involved in this. Seriously, Kankuro leave it be.” 

“She’s a threat, Temari! Probably from Konoha or Iwa, or somethin’!” 

(Y/n) blinked and kept her eyes fixed on the pair in front of her. Her mind was running at a mile a minute and all the results ended in her brutal death. Her life could have been worse, she supposed; But she didn’t have any particular plans to die yet. 

“Who are you?” (Y/n) inquired. 

“Kankuro and this is Temari of Sunagakure. And you happen to be trespassing, brat,” Kankuro replied. 

“I’m just passing through,” (Y/n) explained, switching the mannequin arm to her non-dominant hand.

“Reason being?” Temari, a shorter blonde female, inquired. 

“Just stocking up on supplies in no-man’s land.” 

“Sorry to tell you this, punk, but you’re still a ways from no-man’s and you’re still trespassing,” Kankuro added.

“Well, I guess I’ll be on my way then,” (Y/n) stated, casually sticking her hand into her pocket.

“Not gonna happen.”

“You think?” (Y/n) asked quietly, a small smirk adorning her lips. 

The response was immediate. No further words were spoken, no glances exchanged. Just the breaths of three teenagers in the dark. Three children desperate to impress and overflowing with the intent to live. 

(Y/n) felt the cold of the gun-head against her skin and quietly relished in the pressure of her blade against the neck of the older boy.

“If you pull the trigger, I’ll slice your neck open on the way down.”

“Wanna bet?” the male snarled.

“Not particularly,” (Y/n) replied.

“Good, because you forget, hotshot,” the male said, “You’re alone.” 

(Y/n)’s eyes briefly flickered to where she had last seen the blonde female. Indeed, Temari was proving to be the deciding piece of the sure-to-be deathmatch. The (h/c)-haired twelve-year-old would cry, but her pride was staunchly intent on not being broken until her very last second on the god-forsaken planet. 

Temari was posed perfectly, pistol in hand, and was precisely aiming at (Y/n)’s defenseless head. If she weren’t in a literal standoff, the (e/c)-eyed would probably have half the decency to inquire on how the two still had usable guns and ammunition. 

“True, but firing in these conditions is pretty stupid, too,” (Y/n) reasoned, returning her gaze to meet Kankuro’s, “Truce?”

Kankuro scoffed, “Now, I just want to shoot ya more.” 

“Kankuro, Temari … Stop it.” 

Through her blade, (Y/n) could feel the sharp intake of breath the older male took and, in a brief glance, could see Temari lower her pistol; Looking worriedly towards the source of the new voice.

“Hey, G-Gaara,” Kankuro whispered.

“Gaara?” (Y/n) repeated curiously, her brows furrowing in question. 

“Kankuro, lower your gun. You’re an embarrassment to our clan,” Gaara, apparently, commanded again. The male hesitated for obvious reasons before the older male scoffed.

“Truce?” he mumbled, begrudgingly.

“Truce,” (Y/n) agreed.

Both parties in the stalemate hesitated for a moment, as both were fully aware that death would be the result of a broken truce. A second ticked by. Then another. Then Kankuro lowered his weapon first, the pressure of Gaara’s presence ultimately forcing him into succumbing to the action. (Y/n) obediently followed thereafter. 

“I’ll be out of your hair come morning light,” (Y/n) concluded, taking a tentative step back.

Kankuro huffed and moved to Temari’s side, the blonde keeping her eyes trained on a figure in the darkness.

“What’s your name?” 

(Y/n) blinked and looked up from her belongings. Her (e/c)-eyes shifted between Temari and Kankuro to determine if it had been them or the yet to be seen Gaara. By the looks the visible pair were giving, she doubted it had been one of them. 

“(Y/n),” she replied, quietly, “And you’re Gaara, correct?”

There was a small hum of acknowledgment before the male actually revealed himself. Gaara walked out of the changing stall next to (Y/n)’s, brushing past the taller Kankuro to stand in front of his companions. 

Even in the dark, his hair was a brilliant red and his pale green eyes were visible. He wasn’t much, if any, taller than (Y/n), but the female had the sneaking suspicion if he wanted he’d leave her dead before she could even blink. A monster of the highest caliber. 

“You’ll follow without argument,” Gaara commanded.

“Why should I?”

“You’re in Sunagakure territory,” he replied, cold, distant, “I’ll kill you here if you refuse.”

(Y/n) slung the strap of her satchel over her shoulder, a shaky, sarcastic smile overtaking her lips, “Sounds like a dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you wake up with the intense need for a Naruto Modern Apocalypse AU. And sometimes you need to act on that absurd impulse without delay. And maybe, just maybe, it becomes a coherent, understandable plotline and story. What an ideal outcome! (That probably won't happen, but fingers crossed, I suppose.)
> 
> That aside I recently finished rewatching Naruto: Part 1 and just started watching Naruto Shippuden again. In doing so, I more or less reawakened, or - more accurately - reminded myself, of my childhood crush on the red-headed devil, Gaara of the Sand. Thus, the chemical reaction of story writing birthed this fanfiction.
> 
> I refuse to give away the specifics of the plot, characters, and character interactions, as I feel it should be lived and understood through the story, but I do want to softly merge you into this probably pretty dark, angsty romance story.
> 
> So, here's a little rundown:
> 
> \- There will be character death, though whether it is major or minor is up to interpretation. Some will correspond with actual events in the anime of Naruto and Naruto Shippuden, but others may not. I myself have not yet decided.  
> \- The timeline is much longer than that of my other works and will not be canonical. (Although, there will be parallels and the presence of canonical characters) In the first chapter, the reader is twelve and by the end, she will be in her late teens/early twenties. So another slow burn, baby!  
> \- Acknowledging that an apocalypse did technically occur in the canon Naruto story I feel the need to elaborate. Chakra is not a skill in this AU, but the character's special skills sometimes translate over into a modern setting. The infected aspect of this AU will be delved more into during the actual storyline.
> 
> Currently, this story will be second priority while I continue to write Amor Vincit Omnia, so naturally updates on this will be much more infrequent. I want to apologize in advance for the inconvenience, but this situation will change once I complete my aforementioned other book.


End file.
